Mistress of the Empire (89 page)

The noise became deafening. Mara stood at the center of all admiring eyes, looking stunned, and pleased, and saddened.

She had never asked for power or public adulation. All she had ever striven for was to keep her family name alive.

How strange it was that in the course of the life the gods had given her, she had come to see all of the Nations as her family, and her son, child of a barbarian slave, take the supreme throne and title Light of Heaven.

Lord Keda’s curiosity concerning the mysterious man who wore the armor of an Imperial White was not satisfied until afternoon, when the young Emperor called a select, closed meeting in his private study.

The room was no small chamber but a grand hall in itself,
sparkling with gilt-trimmed screens, and appointed with ancient paintings. Justin had doffed his imperial armor. For this meeting he had donned a robe edged in gold, borrowed from the wardrobe of his predecessor. The fabric hung off his youthful frame, pinned up at the hem and shoulders with rare metal fastenings.

Lord Keda entered. He bowed before the low dais upon which the boy Light of Heaven reclined on cushions, then glanced with interest at the other assembled personages.

Lady Mara yet wore her mourning red. With her was the mysterious bodyguard, his hair damp from a recent bath, and his poised, gaunt body no longer disguised in white armor. He now wore a nondescript robe that was subtly bordered in green. The man’s face was guardedly still. Clever hands were folded neatly in his lap. Only his eyes betrayed his intellect, and they watched, missing nothing. Quick the fellow would be, Lord Keda assessed; he had a talent for judging men. This one would react well in a crisis; except that about him at this moment was a haunted air of abstraction that made him seem one step removed from the people in his presence.

Mara noted Lord Keda’s keen study. ‘Let me introduce you to Arakasi, a valued servant of the Acoma who commands our highest respect.’

Lord Keda’s interest sharpened. This nondescript man with his almost inhuman attentiveness: could he be the fabled Spy Master that had kept the Acoma so miraculously well informed?

The man answered directly, as if uncannily he could read Lord Keda’s thoughts from the play of expressions on his face. ‘I have resigned from my former post,’ he admitted, his voice like velvet rubbed on stone. ‘Once I was Spy Master for the Acoma. Now I have discovered that life and nature hold secrets more profound than intrigues fashioned by men.’

Lord Keda considered this remarkable statement, fascinated by the man who had uttered it.

But the Emperor they all attended was young yet for subtle nuances. He squirmed impatiently on his gilded cushions and clapped his hands to his runner. ‘Fetch in the prisoner.’

Two Imperial Whites entered, flanking a slender man with bitten nails and shrewd eyes. Lord Keda recognised Chumaka, who had served the late Lord Jiro as First Adviser. The Imperial Chancellor frowned, wondering why he had been summoned to this private council, since his was not a judicial office. His appointment was more an administrator’s than one of tribunal authority who could seal an accusation of treason.

For surely Lord Jiro had been behind the assassination of the Emperor Ichindar; Omechan had inherited the siege engines, and Omechan armies had been in place to back the Anasati plot to seize the throne. Chumaka could not have escaped involvement; all too likely, the deadly plan had been of his own design.

Mara responded to Lord Keda’s trepidation. ‘You have been called here as witness,’ she explained quietly, then faced forward as Chumaka awarded the Emperor a deep bow. He followed with an obeisance to Mara, murmuring, ‘Great Lady, I have heard of your reputation. I cast myself at your mercy and humbly beg for my life.’

Lord Keda frowned. The man had been Lord Jiro’s adviser; he had surely been party to the murder of Hokanu’s father, as well as to the poisoning of Lady Mara herself.

That Mara knew this was mirrored in her face. The expressionless line of her mouth hinted at underlying pain: but for this man’s meddling, and a nearly successful attempt on her life, she might still be capable of childbearing. The husband she had been compelled to renounce might yet be at her side.

Chumaka held his pose of prostration, his hands trembling slightly. There was no arrogance in him; his humiliation seemed deeply genuine.

‘Justin,’ Mara murmured, her tone husky.

The boy gave his mother a glance that hinted at rebellion.

Mara braced herself, but it was Arakasi who coached the boy in her place.

‘Majesty,’ he said in a tone that grated like old rust, ‘there are times to hold grudges, and other times to grant clemency. I urge you to choose as a man, and as Emperor. Consider wisely. This man who throws himself on your mercy is the most brilliant foe I have ever known. You’ve already pardoned every other enemy in the Nations, but this one must be specially exempted. Either order him executed, banish him for life, or swear him to your service and give him a commission. He is far too dangerous to let run free inside the Empire.’

Justin’s red brows gathered into a frown. He thought long and hard. ‘I cannot decide,’ he said at last. ‘Mother, this man has been responsible for more pain than any other. His life is yours to dispose of as you will.’

The Lady in her red of mourning stirred. She regarded the thinning hair of the man who crouched at her feet. It took her a long time to speak. ‘Rise, Chumaka.’

The prisoner obeyed, all of his cleverness absent. He regarded the Lady whose choice would determine his fate, and by the deep stillness in his eyes, all in the chamber could see: he knew of no reason under heaven why she should grant him reprieve. ‘As my Lady wills,’ he murmured in a dead voice.

Mara’s gaze bored into him. ‘Answer me on your honor; swear by your spirit that will be bound to the Wheel of Life after this existence shall end: why did you do it?’

She did not specify which of his crimes he should answer
for. Perhaps naming them separately was too hurtful to her. More likely, she was too numbed by events to care; or else she was guileful, leaving the selection to Chumaka, that she could divine his deeper motives from his choice.

Chumaka’s quick intellect floundered. He sighed, conceding her the match. As she had questioned, so he answered in general terms. And for the first time in his long and disingenuous life, he spoke the plain truth. ‘For my master’s service, in part. But in the main, for my love of the Great Game, my Lady. In this, I served myself, not Jiro or Tecuma before him. I was loyal to the House of Anasati, yes, but also not; I did my Lord’s bidding, but the joy of manipulating politics was always my own, private thing. You were the best the gods had placed upon the soil and under the sun, and to defeat you’ – he shrugged – ‘would have been the most glorious triumph in the history of the Great Game.’

Arakasi sucked in a breath. Too plainly he had understood the words of the antagonist who had come nearer than any man to besting him at subterfuge and wit, murder and plotting.

‘That was my miscalculation,’ he murmured, as if he and Chumaka were alone. ‘I presumed that you acted for your master’s honor. There was where you nearly had me: your motive was ever your own at heart, and Jiro’s honor be damned.’

Chumaka inclined his head. ‘To win, yes, was always the goal. The honor of the master
is
in victory.’ Then he turned back to Lady Mara. ‘No one understands this better than you, mistress. For the winner decides what is honor and what is not.’ He fell silent, awaiting pronouncement of his sentence.

The Mistress of the Empire clasped taut hands in her lap. She did not, in the end, speak for herself. ‘Would you serve the Empire, Chumaka?’

A fiery light shone in the former Anasati adviser’s eyes. ‘Gladly, mistress. Despite vows of obedience and loyalty, many of those at your banquet drinking your wine tonight will be plotting your overthrow tomorrow. Keeping this new Empire from crumbling would be the greatest challenge any man could face.’

Mara’s gaze shifted to Arakasi. ‘Would you entrust your network to this man?’

The Spy Master of the Acoma narrowed his eyes and answered with barely a hesitation. ‘Yes. Better than I, he could run my agents. His pride in his work would keep them safer than I ever could, even before I lost my touch.’

Mara nodded to herself. ‘So I thought. You had never found your heart. We need not fear this happening to Chumaka. He has none, save for his work.’

She faced Chumaka. ‘You will take oath to serve your Emperor as Spy Master. As punishment for your past crimes against this Empire, and as penance, you will serve your new Light of Heaven to the last breath in your body. Lord Keda stands as witness.’ As Chumaka regarded the remarkable Lady who had large enough heart to forgive him for some of the greatest sorrows in her life, and as disbelief gave way to dawning joy, he lost the chance to thank her. She dismissed him summarily, in the care of Lord Keda, to swear his oath of fealty and set the words under the imperial seal.

As the Imperial Whites and the Chancellor left the chamber, Mara and Justin were left alone with Arakasi. The Lady regarded the remarkably talented man who had taken innumerable guises, from the lowest scabby beggar in the gutters, to the glittering gold-edged armor of an elite warrior in Justin’s retinue. All that she had achieved she owed in part to him. His ability to perceive without prejudice had served her more than loyalty, more than duty, more than treasure or wealth. ‘There is only one post left unfilled,’ she said at last, her mouth showing signs of a
smile. ‘Will you take the mantle of Imperial First Adviser? I very much doubt there is any other man living with a fast enough mind to keep Justin out of mischief.’

Arakasi returned a grin that was startling for its spontaneity. ‘What does Justin think?’

Mara and her former Spy Master glanced at the boy, whose face was utterly crestfallen.

‘He thinks he will lose out in his escapades,’ Mara concluded with a laugh. ‘Which decides the issue. Will you accept, Arakasi?’

‘I would be honored,’ he replied solemnly. And then delight showed through his façade. ‘More; I would be pleased.’

‘Then prepare to begin your duties tomorrow,’ Mara finished. ‘Tonight is yours, to seek out your lady Kamlio.’

Arakasi quirked up one brow in an expression no one present had ever seen.

‘What is it?’ Mara asked gently. ‘Has the girl rejected your suit?’

Arakasi’s manner became bemused. ‘She has not. In fact, she has agreed I may pay court to her – for a former courtesan, she suddenly desires a large measure of propriety. Her moods are still changeable, but she is no longer the sullen child you took with you into Thuril.’ He shook his head a little in bemused wonder. ‘Now she has discovered her self-worth, it remains to be seen whether I am a match for
her.
’

‘You are,’ Mara assured him. ‘I have seen. Do not doubt.’ Then she looked closely at the man whose thoughts had stimulated hers to new heights and long leaps of revelation. ‘You wish to ask a favor,’ she guessed.

Arakasi looked uncharacteristically chagrined. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, I do.’

‘Name it.’ Mara said. ‘If it is within my power to grant, it is already yours.’

The man in the unobtrusive green-bordered robe, who
would soon wear the white and gold of imperial service, smiled shyly. ‘I would ask you to assign Kamlio’s service to Isashani of the Xacatecas,’ he said in a rush of embarrassed words.

Mara laughed outright. ‘Brilliant!’ she said when next she could speak. ‘Of course! No one, man or woman, has ever escaped the charm of the dowager Lady of the Xacatecas. Kamlio will do well with her, and you will gain a superbly trained wife.’

Arakasi’s eyes glittered. ‘She will certainly become a manipulator equal to my best effort.’

Mara waved him away. ‘You need a woman of wits to keep your acuity,’ she chided fondly. ‘Now go and tell Lady Isashani that the most difficult match in all the Empire is her bag of knots to untangle. She’ll be delighted to oblige, I am sure.’

‘Why?’ Justin demanded outright, as Arakasi made his graceful bow and habitually silent exit. ‘Do all women amuse themselves in such fashion?’

The Mistress of the Empire sighed and gazed fondly upon her son, whose frankness could be an embarrassment, for his ability to set words to truths that were a breach of good manners and all too often resulted in reddened ears. ‘Visit your predecessor’s harem, sometime, and you will see,’ she said. Then, as Justin’s eyes took on an unholy gleam of mischief, she added hastily, ‘On second thought, that part of your education can wait until you are grown. You are too like your father to be set loose among rival women at a tender age.’

‘What do you mean?’ Justin demanded.

Mara gave her son a faraway smile. ‘When you are older, and I am no longer your regent, you will see.’

The garden was secluded, a green haven of shade surrounded by flowers and fountains. Mara wandered its
paths, seeking peace. Hokanu walked at her side, from time to time speaking, other times wrapped in silence. ‘I shall miss you,’ he said, in a heart-wrenching shift of subject.

‘And I you,’ Mara said quickly, lest she lose her voice entirely. ‘More than I can say.’

Hokanu gave her back a brave smile, his loss carefully walled away. ‘You have certainly enlivened the gossip and given Lady Isashani pause for thought. She will be busy writing letters, and I will have to fend off the results of her matchmaking.’